Mindy started out slow. Kind of nice. Like in boxing where the other guy taps with a few light halfhearted jabs to see how you’re going to move. That way he knows where to plant that hard right.
“Izzy,” she said, “you’ve known Tristan since the seventh grade. Were you friends from the start?”
“No,” Izzy said. “We were in some of the same classes.”
“He was famous even then, though, wasn’t he?”
“Sure. Everyone knew about Tristan Hart. He’s always been in the news. Ever since they announced the four families that would be part of the Mars thing.”
“How’d that make you feel? Knowing someone who was famous?”
Izzy shrugged, then grunted softly when Mindy flared her eyes. Izzy jerked as she realized she hadn’t actually answered the question. The interview wasn’t going out live, but we’d been told to give “full and complete” answers. No grunts, no silences, no dead air.
“How’d I feel? God, I hated him at first,” Izzy said.
Mindy jumped on that like a cat on a limping mouse. “You hated Tristan? Why was that?”
“He was so egotistical.” As she said that I caught just a hint of that little Izzy smile I knew so well. “He was all ‘Look at me, I’m going to Mars. I’m going to be famous. I’m special.’ ”
Izzy paused, but there was something about that pause that prevented Mindy from jumping in.
“But then,” said Izzy, “I got to know him.” Another pause, during which she cut a look at me, then glanced at Mindy, and then looked right into the camera. “And it was all an act.”
“An act . . . ?” prompted Mindy.
“Sure. Tris was acting tough, acting big, but it was all hype, all show.”
“And why would he act like that?”
“Because he was scared out of his mind. Why else?”
The camera shifted from her to focus more tightly on my face. Mindy looked like she was going to have kittens right there on the floor. Happy ratings kittens.
“Does that make you angry, Tristan?” she asked. “People always talk about how brave you are. What do you think about Izzy saying that you were scared? Were you scared? Are you?”
Maybe there was a better PR way to handle it. I’m sure the mission people would have wanted me to use one of the zillion scripted responses they gave to everyone on the crew. I knew a lot of them by heart, and I’d used a bunch. But using them now would feel like a cheat. Besides, these people wanted a “reality” show, so maybe they should get that. Something real. Izzy’s comments already started it spinning that way.
I said, “Of course I was scared. I was scared then, I’m scared now, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to be scared for the rest of my life. I have nightmares about this stuff. I’ll probably have nightmares while we’re in space. Even if I were an adult, I know I’d be scared. Everyone on this trip is terrified. We’re using tech that no one’s really proved yet. We’re doing something no one’s ever done. How could we not be scared?”
“We talked about this a lot,” said Izzy, shifting her focus back to Mindy, making it a conversation. Selling it. “When we first started getting interested in each other, we talked about it. About how dangerous it was.”
“Dangerous in what way?” asked Mindy.
“In every way, I suppose. Once we started hanging out, we knew we liked each other. A lot.”
“A lot,” I agreed.
“And we knew that it was kind of stupid to get involved because there was no . . . no . . .” Izzy fished for the word.
“No ‘hope’?” suggested Mindy, but Izzy shook her head.
“That’s not it. There was nowhere to go with it. We tried to be adult about it. I mean, we’re still kids, so I guess we’re still trying to be adult about this. The thing is, though, I’m not sure being ‘adult’ would really be any better. Tristan’s introduced me to a lot of the other crew members. We’ve been to parties with them and lectures. And we had separation counseling sessions. Those were mostly for people who were leaving family behind, but I asked if I could go too.”
“And they let you?”
“Of course they did. The mission people aren’t cruel. It’s not like they’re trying to kidnap Tristan and everyone else. They seem to understand how bad this is going to feel once the rockets take off. They’re trying to do whatever they can. It’s just that . . . well, what can anyone really do? I love Tristan and he loves me, but in two months he’s going to go and there’s nothing that will change that. In two months I’m going to be here and all I’ll ever see of him is on a video screen.”
Mindy had a look on her face that would have scared a great white shark. “And how does that make you feel?”
Izzy seemed ready to answer the question, but then she hit a speed bump. We’d both known this would be tough but we’d talked about it so much that maybe we tricked ourselves into thinking we had it locked. Now that we were saying it, though, in front of her folks and mine, in front of Herc, in front of the camera crew and Mindy—and knowing this would be edited and shown to millions of people—it suddenly got bigger. More real. Instead of walking through a minefield where we knew how and where they’d placed the mines, it suddenly felt like walking barefoot on broken glass.
“It makes me feel like he’s dying,” said Izzy. “It makes me feel like I’m dying too.”
A tear broke and fell down Izzy’s cheek and she brushed it angrily away.
And yeah, I handed her a damn tissue.